


"Why are you asking me?"

by emzular



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Always Knows Where Steve is, Billy's Steve-Dar, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-03 01:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12738021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emzular/pseuds/emzular
Summary: "You any idea where-""Goddammit, why are you asking me?!" Billy yelled. Tommy's eyes widened and Carol, loyally on his arm, gasped."I dunno man," Tommy said, shrugging his shoulders. "Thought you'd know.""Why the Hell does everyone think I know here Harrington is?!" Billy snapped.What starts off as a weird coincidence turns into the biggest annoyance of Billy's high school career when he becomes the 'go to' man for Steve Harrington's whereabouts.[[Sort of a Billy character study really but with a healthy spoonful of fluff]]





	"Why are you asking me?"

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first work in the stranger things fandom so pls don't hate 
> 
> thanks to the harringrove discord for the term 'Steve-Dar' - hmu if you coined this because I cant remember who this was and it's honestly the best term ever invented!
> 
>  
> 
> also I apologise for spelling errors and grammar mistakes because I wrote this so fast, in one sitting...

The first few times it happened, Billy didn't think anything of it; They were obvious answers. Tommy asking "Hey, do you know where Steve is?", a textbook belonging to Harrington under his arm, was easily answered with "Gym" because Billy had seen him in the shower when he'd left. James, from the team, asking “Seen Harrington? I owe him a dollar” had been replied to with an easy “Extra-English” from Billy because _come on_ Steve’s English was goddamn appalling. Antony from the team asking "Yo, you seen Steve?" that evening at practise was easily answered with "Probably forgot his shit in his car" because Billy knew Steve did that - didn't take a genius to know that Hawkin's high's resident ex-king was absolutely the world's most forgetful person; only last week Billy had been in math (obviously not paying attention because come on this shit was easy as slicing bread) when he'd seen Steve panicking because, of all things, he'd forgotten a pen. Thankfully, little miss Nancy had been there to hand him a whole handful.

When it started extending beyond the team, though, Billy started to notice. When said Miss Nancy had come up to him after school, a look of genuine concern on her face, Billy had nearly turned and backed the hell out of the hallway because no way was he dealing with Wheeler-Drama. But she got to him before he could slam shut his locker.

"Hey, have you seen Steve?" She’d asked.

"Why?" Billy had replied.

"He wasn't in history," Nancy said.

"Not my problem," Billy said, and slammed his locker shut.

But Miss Nancy wasn't having any of it.

"Hey!" She snapped, and Billy turned back to face her, eyebrow quirked in amusement. Oh, so the chick had balls, huh? "I know you have gym with him. He was in gym, right?"

“Yeah."

“So where did he go after gym?"

"I dunno, Wheeler," Billy replied, shrugging. "Probably didn't do the damn work, hidin' in the library or some shit."

Unfortunately for Billy, it turned out that he’d had been right; Harrington _had_ been in the library. And, to further Billy’s complete and utter dislike of the situation, Nancy had made her way across to him in the lunch hall to thank him. "Don't mention it," Billy had hissed; really, _don’t mention it_.

But it only continued.

Linette, some girl in the year below who claimed to be an old friend of Nancy’s (not that Billy was really listening, cigarette in his mouth and fingers drumming to whatever music was streaming from some kid’s boom-box across the field), had saddled up at lunch one day, asking if he’d seen Steve. Billy had sighed, turned from his betting game with Tommy, and had told her “he’s probably in the canteen – bean-pole needs some food in him or he’s gonna snap” causing Carol, sat across from him, to laugh. Billy had frowned; it hadn’t been a joke – Steve was getting thin these days.

Vinnie, some boy that claimed he was an old friend of Steve’s (as if he needed to prove that to Billy who was probably the least friendly person to Harrington alive) had come up to Billy the next time he was dropping Max off at the arcade. He’d hopped out the car to light up a cig and stretch his legs when Vinnie ‘mop hair’ Loser had come out of nowhere, asking if he’d “seen my ride”

“Who?”

“Steve,” Vinnie had replied. “I’m in his-“

“Don’t care,” Billy had replied. “He’s at Wheeler’s.”

“Oh, thanks,” Vinnie had said. He sighed and, to Billy’s annoyance, didn’t move. Billy groaned. This was not his day. “You heading there too yeah? Could I bum a lift off-“

“ _Nope_.”

Billy hadn’t driven out of a parking lot with such speed since he’d left Cali, smirking in the rear-view mirror when dust kicked up in Nosey Vinnie’s face.

But regardless of how many times Billy offended or insulted, people kept coming back to ask him. A pattern had begun to emerge. A few days later Nancy came and asked again. It wasn’t so bad when the random losers came to ask; Billy could give them an answer and be done with it. But the Wheeler girl was becoming a problem; _she kept coming back_. Nancy had asked, and Billy happened to be right. She asked again a few days later and, as per the pattern, he was right. It only got worse when the loner kid, Byers, had come to ask after Steve’s whereabouts and Billy was _not_ in the mood.

"He wasn't in practise," Billy had replied, getting into his car. But Byers clearly had a death wish as he came around to the driver’s side and proceeded to stare, expectantly, at Billy. "Probably runnin' laps or something," Billy said after a few incredibly uncomfortable seconds. Byers, clearly happy with that answer, nodded and retreated a few steps. Billy didn't wait a second longer before sparking off out of the parking lot.

 

 

"Why'd you tell Byers I was running laps?" Steve had asked the next day as he passed Billy in the locker room.

"Huh?"

"You told Byers I was running laps," Steve said, coming into view as Billy shut his locker. "I was trying to avoid him." Billy shrugged.

"Not my problem," Billy said.

 

 

When Max started asking for her little nerd group Billy was ready to punch Harrington in the face and ask him to goddamn start telling people where he was going.

"Oi," Max called.

"What?" Billy replied, already done with her conversation and it hadn’t even started.

"You know where Steve is?"

"Why the fuck do you wanna know that?"

"Dustin wants to know."

"Who?"

“Dustin. My friend.”

At this point, Billy had already tuned out the conversation, bored of Max’s insistence that she had friends. He’d returned to setting up his weights, humming to the new track he’d picked up, when an agitated little redhead appeared in his field of view. Billy sighed.

"You've _seen_ him."

“Who?” Billy asked.

“ _Dustin_!” Max yelled.

"Whatever."

"Hey!" Max yelled, snapping her fingers. Billy bit his lip, hard, to quell the sudden flare of rage building in his gut. ‘ _calm it, Hargrove_ ,’ he chanted to himself. ‘ _Fucking calm it_.’

"Steve. Where is he?"

"I don't fucking know, try the damn diner," Billy replied through gritted teeth. Three more seconds and he was gonna shove the little twerp out of his way, possibly shove the weight rack over too. All he wanted was the half an hour of freedom before his dad got home.

"Why would he be there?" Max asked, frowning.

“Dunno,” Billy replied, taking a step towards Max. ‘ _Smart girl_ ,’ Billy thought, as Max expertly moved to the side, sliding around to the other side of Billy’s weights bench. “Probably tryna avoid that Wheeler girl.”

"Right,” Max said, nodding. She turned on her heels and began to walk from the room.

"Not gonna thank me?!” Billy called after her.

"Nope!” Max yelled back, turning and flipping him the bird as she left the house. The door slammed shut with a heavy bang, and Billy couldn’t help but feel proud that she’d gotten strong.

"Asshole," He mumbled fondly, and reached over to turn up his music. His half an hour was now a meagre twenty-five minutes. He sighed. This Steve-Dar thing was starting to get seriously annoying.

 

 

"Excuse me?" Asked a generally nerdish sounding voice a few days after the weight-debacle.

"Who the...?" Billy had asked, looking up through his window with eyes of fury to face a lispy, curly-haired little nerd. A familiar little nerd.

"Hi, my names Dustin-" Began the boy, taking a step too close to the front of Billy's car. Billy growled.

"The fuck kid, get away from my damn car!” Billy hissed, making a move to get out of the car.

"Do you know where Steve is?" Dustin asked and, as if possessed with the pure stupidest of ideas, leant on Billy's car hood. Billy froze. “Hey, Hargrove? Do you know where-“

"If you don’t fucking move your hands off my carl I’ll fuc-" Billy began.

"Because Steve hasn't picked me up and he promised he would and-" Dustin cut in.

"GET OFF THE DAMN CAR!" Billy yelled.

"Okay…" Dustin said, backing up and removing his hands from the newly washed baby blue.

"Jesus, not so hard was it?" Billy snarled. Dustin, to his credit, didn’t seem frightened at all.

"Where's Steve?" Dustin asked.

"You _serious_?"

"Steve Harrington, about THIS high, punched you in the face that one time-"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up kid. He's on the field."

Billy then revved his engine and left.

 

 

Billy saw Max and her nerd crew walking towards him with purpose and he sighed, taking a much-needed drag of his cigarette.

"Where's-"

"Diner."

 

 

Nancy and Jonathon tried to corner him in the library one week when Billy was trying to return that book that was three weeks overdue (without being caught by the “too old for your charm, Hargrove” librarian).

"Hey, Bill-," Nancy had started but Billy had cut her off with a raised hand.

"Chem labs."

 

 

"Do you know-"

"He went home."

 

 

"Have you seen-"

"Nurse."

"Why?!"

"Hurt his pretty boy face in gym."

"Did you-"

"Wasn't me Wheeler, calm down."

 

 

"You any idea where-"

"Goddammit, why are you asking me?!" Billy yelled. Tommy's eyes widened and Carol, loyally on his arm, gasped.

"I dunno man," Tommy said, shrugging his shoulders. "Thought you'd know."

"Why the _Hell_ does everyone think I know where Harrington is?!" Billy snapped. Tommy and Carol shared a look. "WHAT?"

"Nothin'," Tommy mumbled.

"Let's go," Carol said, tugging her boyfriend's arm and trying to hide a girlish smirk behind the fur of her coat. Billy shot her a glare. The smirk dropped. They turned and began their retreat back into the school. It was when they were well past half way that Billy grinned and called out to them.

"He's gone home, man!"

"What?!" Tommy yelled, turning to try and catch his eye, to see if Billy was being serious or if Hargrove was teasing him. But Billy was ducking into his car.

"Got a migraine or some shit!" Billy yelled in explanation as to Steve's disappearance. before Tommy or Carol could ask for more information, Billy was blaring Van Halen and sparking up a cig. God he’d missed messing with people. Recently his abrasive attacks on Harrington had lessened, whether it was to do with Billy growing bored of the ex-King or Steve refusing to take the bait. But messing with Tommy and Carol? A subsidiary second best.

 

 

The anger at being asked only got worse. When Byers next came to ask, Billy was in such a pent up mood that he nearly hit the guy, took a proper swung at his face that Jonathon only just ducked.

“Okay, man, sorry!” Jonathon had said, backing up. “You just al-“

“Always know where he is, I know,” Billy has snarled. “And it’s getting old.”

 

 

When Max started to tease him about it, things got worse.

“Why’re you so mad about it anyway?” She’d asked on the way to school. “Not like it’s a crime to know where a guy is.”

“He’s a dick,” Billy had replied, and Max snorted in response.

“Dustin thinks it’s cute.”

“What is?”

“That someone other than him is watching out for Steve.”

“Watching out for…-?” Billy had begun, but then growled. “I’m not looking out for him…!”

“Then why’d you always know where he is?”

Billy hadn’t answered.

 

It had built up over weeks maybe even months. Billy Hargrove Always Knew Where Steve Harrington Was; _a fact_. The only consolation of the whole ordeal was that he and Steve hadn’t been throwing punches at each other recently. Billy had spent some nights stressing (and taking said stress out on the already trashed, Van Halen covered wall above his bed) about what the fuck Steve would do if he found out how weird it was that, for some reason, Billy had a sixth sense about locating the guy. But then again Steve hung around with thirteen-year olds and carried a bat with nails in the back of his car, so _‘who’s the weird one now, Harrington_?’

But of course, like all things in Billy’s life, it had to come to a tumultuous demise. It just so happened, thankfully, that it was in the empty locker room before practise.

"Why do you always know where I am Hargrove?" Steve asked as he turned from his locker. Billy, who had only just pulled on his kit and was tying up his laces, quirked an eyebrow.

"Huh?"

"You," Steve repeated. "Knowing where I am. Why?"

"I dunno Harrington," Billy said with a shrug and a hint of that cocksure smirk. "Maybe it's because you're so damn predictable?"

"Me?" Steve asked, taking a step filled with disbelief, yet always with that Steve-sure confidence towards Billy. " _Predictable_?"

"As a soccer mom," Billy said, smirk now his shark-toothed grin. He took a step towards Steve and now only a foot remained between them.

"Well," Steve said, and Billy felt his gut twist in an odd way upon seeing a nervous look come over Steve. Nervousness usually made Billy grin. Nervousness meant Billy had won. And yet... Billy only felt anticipation. "Try this for predictable."

Billy really should've seen it coming. Really. It was the most predictable thing Steve ever could have done. The basketball flirting and locker-room staring had reached an all-time high these last few weeks and so when Steve lurched forwards, hands grabbing at Billy's cheeks, Billy should've expected it.

Steve's lips were surprisingly soft. Not soft like a girl but not as hard edged as the boys back in Cali. Steve was different, and when the boy’s hands pulled him in even closer, Billy gave in. He shoved Steve against the lockers behind him, arms bracketing the slightly taller boy against the hard metal. For what felt like hours they pressed against each other, lips bruising and hands grabbing at shirts and shorts and skin. But eventually they broke for air.

"Damn Harrington," Billy said as they parted, not moving away, their breath mingling in the small, hot gap between them. Billy, priding himself on managing to stay half-hard, cast a glimpse down. He smirked. The front of Steve’s shorts was tenting slightly. So, Harrington was just as into him. Billy’s smirk only widened at the thought.

"Still predictable?" Steve asked. Billy shrugged.

"Nah," he replied, quirking an eyebrow. Billy looked up at Steve's lips, licked his own, and then backed away. "Maybe a bit cliché though." He slammed his locker shut and began the walk to the locker room exit.

"Oh, _come on_!" Steve exclaimed from behind him.

Billy laughed, continuing to walk, hearing Steve scrabble to finish getting ready for practise. Billy subconsciously slowed his walk, some part of his brain niggling that if he left it would break whatever flirt-friendly zone he and Harrington had fallen into.

"Will I ever win with you?" Steve asked, breath laboured as he appeared at Billy’s side, moving to stand between him and the door.

"Come play and try me," Billy said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Oh, fuck off with-" Steve began, but Billy cut him off, reaching out and grabbing the back of Steve’s neck. Billy pressed his lips against Steve’s and just like that, they were kissing again. Billy had meant playing basketball but some deep, lust-fuelled part of his brain had made him lunge for Harrington. Steve didn’t resist. Their lips moved in sync, a surprising tranquillity falling between them for a beat as they both settled into that invigorating feeling of lip-against-lip. But they broke for air, and then the battle commenced. Billy slammed Steve back into the door, reaching around for the lock in the process. Steve groaned, half in pain as his head smacked against the door frame, but not too hurt due to the copious amount of _Billy_ touching him.

They were late to practise. Coach was angry but seemed relieved the two weren’t at each-other’s throats. Practise was difficult when all Billy wanted to do was smash his mouth against Steve’s (and the other boy seemed to be in the exact same predicament). But when it was over, and when Steve ditched taking a shower to, clearly, ‘sort himself out’, Billy prided himself on knowing exactly where Steve was.

“Yo Harrington!” Tommy called, looking around the lockers in search of the boy. Billy smirked at the lack of response. “Steve? Yo, anyone seen Steve?” People grumbled out negative responses. Of course no one had seen Steve; Steve had gone, face flush with embarrassment at the thought of seeing Billy in the showers after their ‘session’ prior to practise. Billy moved his head under the hot, boiling shower to cover his wide grin.

“Did Steve ditch showers?” Anthony asked.

“Dunno,” Tommy had replied. “Hargrove?” Billy pulled his head out from the spray and, schooling his face into something neutral, turned and nodded. “You seen Harrington?”

“Yeah,” Billy replied. “He left early.”

“Dammit,” Tommy hissed, clearly having needed him for something. Billy turned back to face the shower head. Maybe knowing exactly where Steve was wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!  
> and thanks for supporting this ship because honestly, we need all the love we can get with the anti-parade going on x


End file.
